


The Long-Home of Eldamar

by EarendilEldar



Series: The Undying Lands [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Catharsis, Comfort/Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Lord of the Rings, Reunions, Rings of Power, Sailing To Valinor, True Love, Undying Lands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarendilEldar/pseuds/EarendilEldar
Summary: The sailing of Ring-bearers has come and many are going with them, including Erestor, who now no longer has any distraction from his fear that Celebrimbor will be subject to the Curse of the Noldor and never released from Mandos.





	The Long-Home of Eldamar

Erestor stood at the starboard gunwale, holding the rail and looking out over the sea.  Well, there was nothing else to be looking out over, or at.  There was nothing at all but sea.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he would ever again see anything but sea.  It wouldn’t surprise him. 

No one else on board seemed the least bit bothered, of course.  At least, not by their environs.  Most of those sailing had crossed the sea before or had sailing in their blood or were just the adventurous type.  Erestor had none of those advantages.  Nor did he have the certitude that this crossing would take him to the one thing he had yearned for over the millennia.  He had not even the company of his dearest friend to reassure him. 

Quite naturally, the parting at Mithlond had been heart-aching for all involved.  A number had come along to farewell those departing, including some whose decision to go or stay on that occasion was unknown until the moment of boarding.  All knew that the Twins weren’t yet planning to leave Middle Earth, but even they had yet to determine if they ever would.  Their indecision was growing more pressing with their father’s leave-taking, but they still had some while.  Celeborn, too, would be remaining for a time to help facilitate the last days of Middle Earth Elvendom.  There were those Elves who had no intention of ever going to Eldamar and elected to stay forever a part Ennor, content with their fate to become like the whisper of falling leaves in the forests. 

It was plain that the youngest Hobbits did not know that it wasn’t only the eldest of them who was leaving until Frodo turned to embrace his dear friends.  The Elves gathered there silently stepped away a bit to give them privacy for their parting. That was when Erestor picked up his pack and started toward the gangplank, saying to Glorfindel, “Come along, we might as well settle in for the journey.”

Glorfindel laid a hand on Erestor’s arm and gave the slightest shake of his head.

“Whatever do you mean?” Erestor frowned. 

“I’m not taking this journey with you, my friend,” Glorfindel said softly.  “I will see you again, but now is not the time for me to come.”

“Not coming?  But… what shall I do… who shall I….  You might have said before now, you great, awful toad!”

Glorfindel’s laughter, as always, was light and musical. 

 _How dare he?!_ Erestor thought.  Were they not friends all these years?  Glorfindel might be the Great Golden Obnoxion but he was also meant to be Erestor’s closest companion.  He might laugh in the face of Balrogs and Nazgul, but this!  This was the worst thing Erestor had faced since the day his very Elven soul was rent asunder at the death of his other half and his grief unable to give him the mercy of death likewise!  How could even this witless warrior be insensitive to that?

Glorfindel’s easy smile softened at the hurt on Erestor’s brow and he pulled Erestor into a hug.  “It is very simply that I am not yet called to return, dearest friend.  I am meant to stay here a little longer, to work with the twins and our Estel and Arwen and Lord Celeborn and, Valar help me, even King Thranduil and Prince Legolas.  Our days have ended, but I need not tell you that transitions do not occur all -”

“What will I do, Glorfindel, if he’s not….  If I should be forced to face my greatest fear, without the one ally who knows how this shall wound me?”

“You will not be alone, that much I can say.  Erestor… this one fear has governed you all these days.  I cannot say that it will not come to pass, though I feel it to be quite unlikely.  But should it, you shall find that you have a task to wrest control of it, to master it and either dispel it or make use of it.  You may have many counsels to take from those who are far more wise and beneficial than I might ever be in these matters.”

“I did not befriend you for your wisdom or utility,” Erestor scowled.  “I should have had a poor return on my investment had I done.  That you should leave me to face this unaided….”

“I serve at the pleasure of my Lord Nämo, Erestor,” Glorfindel said apologetically.  “Please, let us not part with bitterness.  All things are so for a reason, and there will surely be one for your taking this path without me.”

Erestor’s scowl had dampened to a pout by then.  There wasn’t much he could say against Glorfindel’s words, after all, and of course he did not wish them to part on poor terms.  “I still think you a toad,” he muttered.  “And I daresay I shall be having some strong words for this Lord Nämo.  He’s never been a very good patron to me.”

Glorfindel couldn’t help laughing again.  Surely many had reason to hold a grudge against the Lord of Mandos over the ages, but Glorfindel wouldn’t doubt for a moment that only Erestor o Eregion would dare giving the Doomsman of the Valar a piece of his mind. 

“I, too, shall miss you very sorely,” Glorfindel said, pulling Erestor into a hug again.  “I cannot see myself sitting up long through the night, dispatching a bottle of cordial over philosophy, politics, and gossip with Elrohir or matching wits with Thranduil unless they be engraved on a length of steel.”

“At least the thought of you suffering Thranduil’s company shall comfort me,” Erestor snarked.  “But… be sure to bring a case of cordial when you do sail, please?  I know not what they serve in Valinor.  Mayhap I shall find all to be bitter there.”

“Ai.  A case of cordial, and as many barrels of Dorwinion as I can sneak out of the Greenwood.  Which, if the past is any indication of the future, should be an entire ship-full.  At least.”

“If your remaining here must accomplish something, Glorfindel,” Erestor said as softly as he could, “let it be that you convince the twins to make the crossing when you do.  I hate to think of Elrond and Celebrian sundered from all of their children eternally.”

“I shall do my best,” Glorfindel nodded, stepping back.  “Fair winds, my friend, until at last I, too, am called home.”

And so now Erestor stood, alone, his heart dreading what lay ahead and missing the only home he’d ever known.  He felt isolated, useless, suspended, belonging nowhere and to no one… dispossessed. 

“You don’t look… comforted,” said a small voice beside Erestor. 

Erestor glanced down at the young Halfling.  “I’m leaving everything I once knew,” Erestor said, fixing his eyes again on the horizon.  “And I alone have no promise of succor in the West.”  After a moment, Erestor sighed.  “You do not wish to hear this tale of my long wretchedness, _pheriain_.”

“Are there any who tell tales of long happiness?” Frodo said with a dry smile.

Erestor almost laughed, for this Hobbit answered so much like an Elf.  No wonder he was accorded a place on this voyage!  “I would have,” Erestor murmured.  “Had my happiness but been long.”

Frodo just put a hand atop Erestor’s.  He didn’t know what Elrond’s chief counselor could have lived through that made him despair so of finding peace even in the Undying Lands, and clearly the Elf didn’t wish to speak of it, but Frodo thought that if nothing else, at least he could offer support.

For a long while they stood there, listening to Elrond and Lindir playing their harps.  For how many centuries had Erestor seen that silver harp in Elrond’s sitting room and never once saw him pick it up.  But now, since the day they had departed the Last Homely House, Elrond had hardly put it down.  Lord and defender no more, Elrond was at ease, and played music so sweetly that Erestor grieved all the years Elrond had not played.  Eventually, Erestor realized whom it was that had taught Elrond the art of music and he supposed that even the silver harp itself might have been a gift from Maglor.

“Do you know how long the journey should last?” Frodo asked at length.

Erestor shook his head apologetically.  “I know nothing of sea-travel.  I think I shall take my rest below decks this night, though,” Erestor said.  “It looks like rain.”

* * *

 

It was at dawn that the fabled white shores came into sight from the ship’s deck.  Everyone aboard could hear the welcoming songs of the Elves who awaited their beloved kin and long-missed friends.  The travellers all stood together on the deck as they drew nearer to the quay, all feeling the relief and joy of imminent reunions and ages-old cares washed away in the sweet, twilit breezes of Valinor.

All but the Elf clad in sable who stood aft-ward, his brow creased and heart stretched tight like a bowstring.

The gangplank was set and Elves began to descend, welcomed warmly to their long-home by all those gathered on the quay.  Mithrandir accompanied the two Halflings, shepherding them so that they didn’t wander too far off-course in this new, wild and wondrous place before he could make important introductions.  Elrond and Galadriel deboarded together into the waiting embrace of Celebrian who once again looked every bit as radiant and thriving as she had on her wedding day. 

Erestor was last to leave the ship and he had not the heart to look too closely at those who had gathered on the quay and by the shore.  His heart felt leaden and by force of will alone did he suppress tears.  How could he spoil the rapturous reunions going on all about him with his anguish?  If he could just move by them unmarked, perhaps he could avoid their company long enough to pull himself together.  If only Glorfindel were here to lend a comforting shoulder for his sorrow….

Up ahead, Erestor saw Ereinion and quickly detoured – let him greet his old herald first – and made his way passed Mithrandir and the Halflings.  Well… that _had_ been Mithrandir when they left the ship, at any rate.  He supposed Olórin it must be now, for the wizened wizard was suddenly looking considerably more youthful.  A magnificent lady in a hooded mantel of sapphire blue approached and Olórin bowed most solemnly. 

“Dearest Olórin,” Erestor heard her say softly, with as many tears as Celebrian had for her mother and husband.  “But where is the other who has been so beloved of me?”

“It is Master Erestor you seek, my Lady,” Olórin said, just loud enough to stop Erestor in his tracks.

Erestor had no idea who could be seeking him and turned, looking to the face of the tall, hooded lady, wondering if it was someone he’d known long ago.  As he did, he quickly fell to his knees and bowed his head, realizing that he was in the presence of a Vala in Elda-form. 

“My dear, bereft child, so long you have borne with such a great sadness….  When I heard of your arrival, I left my far dwelling that I might tell you that you’ve ever had my pity, even in times when you felt forsaken by all.”

Erestor, however, did not raise his head, but kept it bowed as his tears no longer remained hidden.  “My gratitude for your taking my part must seem very meagre, O great Lady Nienna,” Erestor whispered.  “I assure you it is not so.  It is only that… I have long feared that I should find no solace here, and now I am come… all that I longed for….” Erestor found it impossible to speak for his grief and he was lifted to his feet and wrapped in the cloaked arms of the Vala herself. 

“Oh, sad child!” Nienna murmured.  “All that you have longed for awaits you here.  Come, and let your many tears be tonic for deep wounds.”  The Lady turned and led Erestor away from the quay toward a path that came down from the Calacirion.  Erestor had no idea where she could be leading him, then she simply stopped and inclined her head toward the path.  Was he meant to -?

Then Erestor realized that coming along the path was someone who stopped and looked in the direction of the Lady Vala for a long moment, seeming frozen in place.  Then something seemed to shift, the ache inside him that had become a dulled throb over the ages flared like fire again.  Erestor had intended to turn to the Lady, to ask if that was who he thought, and if he really had the permission of Valar to go to him, but as the other broke into a run, Erestor abandoned all thought and ran too. 

Erestor and Celebrimbor crashed into one another’s arms so hard it was a wonder they didn’t do each other an injury.  They weren’t even two individuals in that moment, but one entity of soul-deep sobs, awash with tears, desperately clashing kisses, and arms that fought with all their might to hold closer, tighter, forever.  Erestor wailed out centuries of grief against Celebrimbor’s broad shoulder, unable to express himself in any articulate way.  Celebrimbor fared no better, only holding Erestor and sobbing into the silky raven hair that he had missed for so long.

Eventually the storm began to blow out and Erestor realized that they had ended up kneeling in one another’s embrace.  He cared not, but slowly raised his head, needing to look into the sapphire eyes of the other half of his fëa.  Could this be real… after so long?

 “I thought I might never see you again…,” Erestor whispered, stroking Celebrimbor’s tear-stained cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Erestor.  Oh, my beautiful, beautiful Erestor… please, can you forgive me?” Celebrimbor pleaded in a desperate whisper. 

“Forgive… my beloved…?”

“That I left you, that you… had to stay there so long.  I did not realise what it would do to you… preserving you, against all….”

“I care not, Celeb, only that I have you back.  And know that I shall make such terrible war, single-handedly, upon any who tries to take you from me ever again!”

“We never shall be parted again, my Eres, never,” Celebrimbor said confidently, holding Erestor tightly.  “Will you come?  Will you see the home I’ve made here, for us?  There is still much work to be done, of course, but I wanted to wait….”

“A home… our home?” Erestor murmured.

“Aye, beloved, our home, for all our days,” Celebrimbor said, softly kissing Erestor’s cheek.  “And, at last, we will celebrate our wedding, here, where there will be no war or gloom or sorrow.”

“I’ve waited millennia, Celeb.  Please, let’s go home?” Erestor said, all but falling into Celebrimbor’s arms with exhaustion now that the wound of a broken fëa was healing at last.


End file.
